


I Am Not Throwing Away My Shot

by wingedflower



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, BAMF Lance (Voltron), Fever, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Injured Lance (Voltron), Langst, POV Alternating, Platonic Relationships, Sick Lance (Voltron), Sickfic, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25668922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedflower/pseuds/wingedflower
Summary: Keith and Pidge rescue Lance from Galra captivity, but as they make their way back to the castle, an unxpected storm sends them crashing on an remote planet. Things get even more messed up when Lance developes a dangerous illness, and their only hope is that the storm ends before he takes a turn for the worse... or before the Galra find them.
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt, Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 55
Kudos: 306





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Soo... I'm really not into Voltron anymore, but recently I got the inspiration to write a new Langsty fic featuring my other two favorite paladins, because hell, there's a global pandemic going on and everything is shit, so why not write some fanfiction to distract myself.
> 
> Since the chapters are rather short (2k-3k words each) I see no point in waiting between updates, so I'm just posting everything at once. If you still follow my fics, and if you're also interested in some distraction from our horrifying reality, I hope you enjoy this little piece! I have one request though - when you're finished, please leave a comment before you leave :) I hadn't written anything in almost a year and it will be great to hear some feedback again.
> 
> This fic takes place at some point before the end of season 2.

“For the last time, Paladin,” Dumber’s face was only a few inches away from his; Lance nearly coughed at the stench of the Galra’s breath. “Where d’ye keep the Lions?”

Lance sighed and flexed his wrists under the metal cuffs strapping them to the chair. “Dude, you told me it was ‘the last time’ like ten times already. I’m starting to think you two have a short-term memory loss, and in that case, nothing I say will make any difference because you won’t be able to remember it, so why not just let me – “

Dumber smacked him across the face before he could finish his sentence. Lance groaned, his already-abused cheek burning with newfound agony. His ears rang from the force of the hit and he could already feel the all-too-familiar taste of metal in his mouth. The two Galra who had captured him may not be too brilliant, but they definitely knew how to land a blow. Apparently they were making up in muscle what they lacked in brain, and although there were no mirrors on the small ship, Lance was certain his face looked more or less like a squashed eggplant by now.

And yet, he felt quite lucky that making him their personal punching bag was _all_ they did. When he was first captured, he was terrified out of his mind – one look at Shiro’s arm was enough to realize what the Galra were capable of doing to their prisoners. But his current captors – Lance didn’t catch their names, so he simply called them Dumb and Dumber – were piloting a small cargo ship that seemed to lack any of the high-tech-super-creepy-tools-for-human-experiments their Empire was so fond of. So, until they reached a higher command ship – Lance truly hoped his team would get him before _that_ happened - they had to work with what they had to try and milk the Blue Paladin for information: their fists.

Now, their fists _hurt._ Lance had already developed a throbbing headache from all the blows he’d taken to his jaw and temples, and the ringing in his ears had also become permanent at some point. And while they mostly kept his arms and ankles chained to the chair in the improvised interrogation room they set up in one of the ship’s storage units, sometimes they threw him to the floor and kicked him in the abdomen, so he had his nasty collection of bruises on that area as well. He also suspected a cracked rib or two as breathing too deeply was accompanied by a sharp pain under his chest.

But that was all it was. There were no needles shoved in his veins, no electric shocks, no druid magic to mess up his mind (and for that he was thankful, because _Quiznak_ these guys were scary). The two Galra were clearly able to capture him out of sheer luck; after all, it's not like every day you meet a Paladin of Voltron who happens to be on a routine sample-collecting mission on the same planet you are currently visiting, who is miles away from his Lion because he’d gone too deep into the jungle and gotten completely lost, and whose body is submerged to his chest when you find him because _of course_ he had to stumble into a swamp, those fucking jungles, and _of course_ he couldn't call for help because his helmet was strapped to his waist, which was currently buried under layers of dirt.

The thing was, they didn’t really know what to do with him until they steered their ship out of this galactic wilderness: on the one hand, they had to keep him in decent shape so Central Command would have something to negotiate for with the other Paladins; on the other hand, they had to break his spirit _a little_ – they couldn’t treat a Paladin of Voltron like a guest of honor and deliver him to Zarkon all pampered and content, could they? And extracting valuable information from him, like the location of the Lions or the plans of his team, was just what they needed to get promoted from their position as lowly cargo pilots. As a former cargo pilot himself, Lance could almost relate to that. _Almost._

So they took away his armor and bayard (but since they didn’t have any prisoner uniform, they let him keep his undersuit, thank God) and locked him in this room and asked him the same questions over and over and when he refused to cooperate, they simply hit him until they had enough – or, more often, since they didn’t have anything better to do at this place, until he passed out. It wasn’t exactly picnic at the park, but Lance knew it could be much, _much_ worse.

So he sucked it up and waited for a rescue. He wasn’t sure how long he’s been here – it was hard to keep track of time when he kept fading in and out of consciousness – but he was about ninety-five percent sure it hasn’t been more than a day or two, two and a half at most. He could last this long. They didn’t give him any food – although the nausea he felt almost constantly from all the punches to his head and stomach suppressed his appetite anyway – but they did give him water every now and then, so at least he wasn’t dehydrated. All things considered, he was fine.

He just needed to wait a little longer, and his friends would come for him. He trusted them on that.

Lance just managed to re-focus on Dumber’s snarling face when Dumb appeared at the door. “Did he tell ye anything?” he asked, voice raw and grating like sandpaper.

“No,” Dumber growled and cracked his neck several times. “But I’ll make sure he spills out the good stuff soon enough.”

Lance would have rolled his eyes had his head not hurt so badly. _There is no way these two don’t share a single brain._

“Sorry, but it’ll have te wait,” Dumb said. He looked nervous. “Radar just spotted a particle storm on TAZ-19X. We need te change course if we don’t wanna get sucked in.”

Lance had no idea what TAZ-19X was, but he assumed it was a planet they’d just passed by. And since the last thing he wanted was to get stuck on a planet with a particle storm with these two, he truly hoped Dumber would leave him alone for the time being and go steer them out of the danger zone. The more time he could earn without getting hit, the better.

Fortunately, Dumber seemed to be on the same page, though the disappointment from not being able to throw some more punches at the Blue Paladin was evident in his yellow eyes. “Alright, I’m coming,” he said. “Don’t worry, Paladin, once we set a new course I’m gonna come back and we can play some more.”

“Cool, I'll get the snacks,” Lance muttered.

“No one’s going to play with anyone,” said a third voice. A familiar voice.

Both Dumb and Dumber barely managed to turn around before Dumb was hit on the head with what seemed like the flat side of a sword. He collapsed to the floor like a potato sack and remained there, unmoving. Dumber roared furiously and lunged at the mysterious attacker. There was a wooshing sound, a red flash, and before Lance could even blink, Dumber released an agonized scream as the same sword impaled him right through the chest. His scream quickly died down into a wet gurgle as the blade was pulled out of his body, and he fell next to his partner, glazed eyes staring right at Lance. Dark, bluish blood instantly started to ooze from the hole in his back.

Oh God, the sight was _not_ helping Lance’s nausea at all. He fought to swallow back bile and tore his eyes off the body to take a better look at his savior.

Keith ran a hand through his hair as his bayard disappeared back into the armor. He had a small bag tied to his waist, and considering the homicide he’d just committed, he looked rather calm. Well, that was Keith for you. “You alright?” he asked, businesslike as always.

“Never been better,” Lance said, his voice higher than intended. He cleared his throat. “What, only you came to save my ass? No entourage? That’s kind of hurtful, I mean, I _am_ a Paladin.”

“Pidge is outside. We used the cloaking ability of the Green Lion to avoid detection,” Keith elegantly stepped around the fallen Galra as he approached Lance. He eyed the chair for a second and pressed the comm button on his helmet. “Hey Pidge, I’ve got Lance but they put some kind of electric cuffs on him, can you neutralize them remotely?”

“I’m offended you even asked that,” Lance heard Pidge’s voice through the comms. There were some distant typing and beeping sounds, and then all four cuffs opened at once. “ _Voilà._ ”

“Great. Thanks.” Keith examined Lance as the latter carefully stretched and flexed his limbs, which have been immobile for so long. Lance detected a hint of concern in the Red Paladin’s eyes; well, if _Keith_ was worried, then Lance's face must have been in worse shape than he thought. It was probably all swollen and dirty and tinted different shades of purple.

“It looks like they really did a number you," Keith said, confirming Lance's suspicion. "Can you walk?"

“Yeah, I don’t think they broke anything.” Lance stood up slowly, careful not to sway. He tried to inhale and made a face as familiar pain pierced his ribs. “Maybe cracked some ribs… but other than that, I’m okay, thanks for asking, Pidge!” he yelled the last couple of words into Keith’s helmet, sending the other boy jumping backwards.

Pidge snorted. “Welcome back, Lance. Took us long enough to track you down.”

"You can make it up to me by letting me beat you on our next game night."

"You wish!"

"Can we go already?" Keith asked wearily. "Before the other guy wakes up. I don't for how long the blow to his head can keep him unconscious."

"Wait!" Lance suddenly remembered. "I need to find my armor and bayard!"

Keith touched the bag on his waist. "Already have them. They'd locked everything up in a safe, but it took Pidge about ten seconds to breach the code."

Lance's cheeks warmed as he realized just how _easy_ it was for Keith and Pidge to rescue him. They didn't even need the Lions except for Green, and Keith had managed to _kill_ one of his captors before Lance even became aware of his presence.

How come _he_ couldn't do anything to rescue himself? Was he really that useless?

Oblivious to Lance's thoughts, Keith handed him his helmet. "Put this on so you won't suffocate when we step outside," he said. "I don't think there's a point in putting your entire armor, because judging by the way you look, you're going inside a pod right away. We'll use my jetpack to get to Green, and then it's about fifteen minutes until we reach the Castle. They wanted to stay out of this ship's radar, you see."

"Sounds good." Lance placed the helmet over his aching head and glanced one last time at the two Galra sprawled on the floor. There wasn't much they could do for Dumber at this point, but Dumb will eventually wake up… and Lance couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy when he thought about him waking up to see his friend's dead body lying next to him.

Lance shut his eyes forcefully. No. These two were the _bad_ guys. They captured him and starved him and kicked him around nonstop for more than a day. They showed him no pity or compassion and there was no reason for him to treat them any differently.

He and Keith entered Green's cockpit just as Pidge finished updating the Castle about their status. She turned to look at them and her eyes nearly popped out when she saw Lance. "Whoa. I've never seen so much purple on a human's skin, " she said. "Isn't Keith supposed to be half-Galra?"

"I missed you too, Pidge," Lance sank to sit on the floor, feeling exhausted and dizzy all of a sudden. The adrenaline from being rescued by his team had apparently worn off, and every inch of his body felt sore and heavy. He was definitely sleep deprived – he doubted blacking out from excessive beating every few hours could be considered sleep.

He hated the cryopods, yet he couldn’t wait to go inside one.

His eyes just began to droop when the Green Lion was pulled violently by an unknown force and he rolled on his side, all but crashing against the opposite wall of the small cockpit. He could hear the other paladins' yells, and caught the sight of Pidge’s hands frantically flailing over the unresponsive controls when there was another pull, harder than the first one, and the Green Lion started to swirl in a sickening pace. Lance thought he might throw up, but lucky for him, his helmet quickly hit the bottom of the Lion’s console, and while it was sturdy enough to prevent his head from splitting open, everything went dark before he could even open his mouth to scream. 


	2. Two

The first thing he became aware of was the ringing in his ears. It was back with vengeance.

Then, a splitting headache. It felt as if someone had placed his head inside a soccer ball and just kicked it in all directions.

A few seconds later, he realized his whole body hurt. His _hair_ hurt, if that was even possible.

He wanted to scream, but he didn't have the energy to summon enough air.

"Lance? Lance, wake up."

Lance moaned weakly. Whoever this was, their voice was way louder than he could handle at the moment. Every word made his head pound harder.

"Hey, I need you to open your eyes and talk to me. Come on, Lance."

Lance opened his eyes to a silver. A pair of dark purple eyes, framed by the most awful haircut he's ever seen in his life, stared back at him. Keith? Yeah, that's right, he rescued him from the Galra not so long ago. Pidge was there, too. But although Lance had no idea where he was and what happened, he had a feeling they hadn't made it back to the Castle.

Now that Lance was more or less awake, Keith spent no time invading his personal space and lowered his face until his nose nearly touched Lance's. "Your pupils look normal," he noted, then craned his neck to look behind Lance's head. "And there are no cracks on your helmet… well, I guess we can assume you don't have a concussion. How many fingers am I holding?"

"Three, and your breath stinks," Lance croaked. Damn it, talking hurt. He tried to lift his neck to look around, but even that tiny movement sent waves of agony up his head and down his spine, so he stopped. "What the hell happened?"

"We got caught in a particle storm and crashed on this planet," he heard Pidge's voice right before she appeared in his field of view. Her glasses lay crooked on her nose and her armor looked quite banged, but she seemed unhurt otherwise. "It was my fault – I was so busy with tampering with the Galra ship's systems I didn't even notice it on the radar. Not until we got sucked in and it was too late."

A particle storm… Why did it sound familiar? Didn't Dumb mention it just before Keith came in and knocked him unconscious? Lance's stomach knotted with guilt when he realized he should have said something. Had he warned them on time, they would have already arrived at the Castle.

"Did you manage to contact anyone?" Keith asked, although Lance could feel he wasn't too optimistic about the answer.

Pidge shook her head. "Not a chance. Green has gone completely offline and I can't wake her up. And with that crazy storm going all over the atmosphere, there's no way we can signal the Castle, nor they can signal us. We're stuck."

Keith only cursed in response.

The Green Paladin came to kneel next to Lance. "Hey, are you okay? Keith and I got banged up just a little because we had our armors, but you…" she bit her lip, looking genuinely concerned for the first time today.

Lance sighed. He hated himself for being so useless and hated himself even more for worrying Pidge, who was like a younger sister to him. "I don't know. Everything hurts. But everything kind of hurt before, too." He tried to take a deep breath and yelped as his abdomen practically screamed. "Okay, that _definitely_ hurts more than before. I-I may have broken a rib or something."

"Can you sit up?" Keith asked. "We need to take a better look at your upper body, make sure there are no hidden wounds or bleeding."

Sitting up was the last thing Lance wanted to do now, but he could see the logic behind the request. He raised his arms and came to lean on his elbows for support…

And his right arm burst into flames.

Lance _wailed_ and collapsed back on the floor, rolling to his left side despite the dizziness the movement caused. He clutched his right arm to his chest with his other arm and panted, his breath coming in short, pained gasps. Tears stung his eyes and his usual nausea just became ten times worse. It hurt, it hurt _it hurt it hurt it hurt._

"What happened?!" Pidge leaned in closer, sounding borderline hysterical.

Lance tried to answer, but all that came out was another gasp. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and he actually wished to pass out again.

"I think his arm's broken," Keith said gravely. He pointed at Lance's forearm. "See? The angle is all wrong. Must be from the crash."

"Crap," Pidge hissed. "This day just keeps getting better."

"We need to improvise a splint and a sling," Keith said and looked around. "Pidge, can you check Green's first aid kit while I help him sit?"

"I doubt I'll find anything other than bandages, but I'll go get them." Pidge went to search Green's back cabin while Keith tapped Lance's shoulder with surprising gentleness. "Hey, did you hear me? We can't help you when you're on the ground like that."

"You can't help me anyway," Lance said through gritted teeth. "I'm pretty sure I'm dying."

"No, you're not. Come on, I've got you." Keith wrapped a strong arm around Lance's shoulders and somehow managed to pull him to a more-or-less upright position, with little to no help from Lance himself, who was still clutching his arm with such force the fingers in his right hand went white. His eyes fluttered shut as Keith leaned him against the wall. "Get this helmet off my face, I'm about to throw up," he wheezed.

"Please don't," Keith said, but did as he was asked. A moment later Lance pitched to the side and expelled the contents of his stomach – which was mostly water, considering he hadn't eaten anything since he was captured – on the floor. The heaves hurt his abused ribs but the pounding in his head relaxed a bit, and for that he was grateful. He remembered his sister Rachel had the occasional migraines, and vomiting always made her feel better, despite how gross it was.

"Sorry," Lance clumsily wiped his mouth against his left shoulder. Now that he was more alert, he was almost tempted to look at his broken arm, but feared the sight might make him vomit again, so he settled on staring at the opposite wall instead. The lights in the cockpit were all off, but weak rays of sun entered through the windshield, indicating it was still daytime on the planet they'd crashed on.

"I guess it was inevitable," Keith said dryly, shuffling to get away from the pool of dirt. It was then when Pidge returned, hands full of bandages. "We have these bandages, some painkillers, ice bags and an ointment I'm not sure what is for, but I doubt it can mend broken bones." She came to sit on Lance's other side, but then she noticed the mess on the floor. Her eyes widened, and she took a step back. "Um. Yeah. So, I guess we can use some of the bandages to make a sling, but we still need something hard and flat to use as a splint."

Keith thought for a moment, then reached for the bag that was still tied to his waist. He took out a piece of Lance's armor – a part of his forearm guard that wasn't exactly flat, but was close enough. "This will do, assuming you have no purpose of wearing your armor any time soon…"

"Are you kidding me? If I do have broken ribs, the last thing I need is a chestplate that'll put more pressure on them."

The other Paladins seemed to agree with that, and got to work right away. It took them about five minutes to tie several bandages together, wrap them around Lance's neck and use the other side of the knot to strap his forearm to the armor plate. Lance tried to be as silent as possible while they worked, even though the lightest touch to the injured limb made him want to scream.

"Well, that's the best we can do for the time being." Keith sat back on his heels, examining their work. "You need to avoid any sharp movements."

"That shouldn't be too hard," Lance mumbled, as he didn't feel like moving at all for the next week or so. He leaned back on the wall in exhaustion. "Now what?"

Pidge shrugged. "You rest. We wait. There's nothing much to do until Green is back online, and from what I could see from the windshield, it looks like this planet's sun will set soon."

"I think one of us should go outside and look around, as long as there's light," Keith stood up and wore his helmet again. "See if there are any Galra nearby – it seems like we crashed in the middle of the desert, and Green is basically a sitting target out here. We also need to find a drinkable water source. Our Lions have some emergency supplies stacked, but we don't know how long this storm is going to last."

"And by 'one of us', you mean you, right?" Pidge leaned back in her pilot chair, arms folded behind her head. "I'm not going out there with all my allergies."

"You stay here and watch Lance," Keith said as he headed out. "I'll be back before dark."

"I don't need babysitting," Lance muttered through half-lidded eyes, but the Red Paladin was already gone.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Lance gradually dozing off. Then Pidge spoke. "You really don't look so good, you know that?"

"Well, getting kicked in all places by two mad Galra and then repeating the process in a tiny cockpit isn't exactly what the doctor would prescribe," Lance said. A chill ran through his spine and he curled slightly into himself, wondering if the upcoming evening was causing the temperature drop – although it didn't make entirely sense, since their Lions were supposed to be made of isolating material; perhaps Green's isolation mechanism had been damaged in the crash?

Pidge tried to smile but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I guess not. I'm sorry you have to suffer more. I broke my arm when I was a kid and it was nasty."

Lance kind of wanted to hear the story behind that, but he doubted he'd be able to stay awake long enough. He could feel the exhaustion in his _bones_ , both broken and unbroken. "I'm the one who should be sorry," he said gloomily. "For getting kidnapped in the first place, and for injuring myself afterwards. We're stuck on a foreign planet and I can't do anything to help."

"Whoa, whoa, none of this was your fault," Pidge slid down from her chair and kneeled in front of him. "We've _all_ been captured by the Galra, together or separately, at this point of the war," she said (and she was not wrong). "The fact we ran into a particle storm right after that and you got hurt in the crash… well, that's just bad luck. We're not blaming you, and we don't expect you to be up and running as if nothing happened. You need to _rest_."

"Says the girl who stays up all night just to finish a code," Lance said, although he did appreciate her trying to cheer him up. He didn't recall Pidge ever doing that – they were good friends and all, but their conversations mostly included mutual jokes and teasing, not so much sincere, touch-feely stuff. This realization almost made him tear up for some reason. God, his brain was a _mess._

Pidged huffed. "Yes, and you come every time to drag me back to bed. You're good at taking care of other people, Lance, but sometimes you need to let others take care of you, too."

"Okay, so let's start by fetching me a blanket? It's getting really chilly in here and I can't wear my armor," Lance said right as he broke into more shivers, as if to prove a point.

"I can do that." Pidge got up to search the back cabin again. He heard her calling, "There are three blankets in here – you can have all of them if you like, Keith and I can take turns sleeping on the pilot chair while one of us stands watch. Although this guy must be able to sleep standing up with his eyes open, if you ask me."

Lance laughed at that, but stopped almost instantly because it hurt his chest and back. A nest of soft blankets definitely sounded like a good idea for his bruised, aching body. If only he could fall asleep and wake up back at the Castle, healthy and uninjured, with a five-course meal cooked by Hunk waiting for him at the kitchen.

Well, that fantasy would have to wait a little longer. But at least he wasn't alone; the three of them were alive and together on a seemingly abandoned planet. Things couldn't possibly get any worse than that, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...right? >:]


	3. Three

"I finally found a water source," Keith said as he climbed back into the Green Lion, holding two seemingly heavy canteens. He didn't find any water on his round yesterday – all he saw was desert, miles upon miles of orange sand under dusty skies – but that was probably because he didn't manage to get too far before the sun set. The days on this planet seemed to be a bit shorter compared to Earth, so he went out again first thing in the morning. Now, judging by the position of the sun in the sky (as much as he could see through the haze covering it; the particle storm has yet to show signs of subsiding), it was almost midday and Keith rushed back to Green as he started to feel like a boiled egg, despite having his armor to regulate his body's temperature. Apparently there was a limit even to Altean technology when you were trapped on such a hot planet. "I already threw in the purification tablets, so we should be able to drink from it soon."

"Awesome. Did you find any food?" Pidge sat with her legs crossed on the pilot chair, tampering with the controls in another attempt to wake Green up. So far, she had no success.

"Nope." Keith took his helmet off and wiped his sweaty face. "We'll have to live on nutrition bars for now. How's Lance?"

"Still sleeping, last time I checked."

Keith quirked an eyebrow. "He's _still_ sleeping? It's almost noon!"

Pidge shrugged. "He was really tired yesterday, don't you remember? And it's not like I can blame him."

Oh, Keith remembered. Lance was already half-asleep when he came back yesterday, and they both had to half-drag, half-carry him to the small cot in Green's back cabin, figuring it would be a tad more comfortable than staying on the floor. They tried to coax him into eating a nutrition bar before bed, but Lance insisted he was still nauseous, and it would a waste of food if he vomited it right away. They didn't like it, considering he hadn't eaten in several days, but they also couldn't quite argue with that logic, so they decided to just let him sleep. Hopefully his appetite would come back after he was rested properly.

But there was a limit to everything. "Well, I'm going to wake him up. He needs to eat something, even if I have to shove it down his throat," Keith announced and headed to the cabin.

"Oh, I'd like to see that," Pidge called from her seat.

Lance was lying on the cot in the same position they'd left him yesterday – curled on his left side, brow slightly furrowed, probably from the pain in his arm. All three blankets were tucked around him, and Keith wondered how come he hadn't kicked them off yet. Although the heat from outside didn't quite penetrate the Lion's isolating armor, these blankets were designed to keep them warm in the most extreme cold temperatures – he imagined covering oneself with three of them would be like sleeping inside a furnace.

Keith sat on the edge of the bed. "Wake up," he said unceremoniously. "You need to eat, whether you like it or not."

Lance showed no sign of hearing him.

Keith rolled his eyes. He hated playing the babysitter. "Lance, _wake up_ ," he repeated, louder, adding a shake to the boy's uninjured shoulder.

Lance didn't move.

Keith frowned. Lance often slept in back at the Castle, but when they came to wake him up, it always took no more than a couple of seconds before he shot up from bed, spattering and whining for having his beauty sleep disturbed. It wasn't like him to be so still, so… unresponsive.

Keith's stomach knotted in uneasiness he couldn't quite explain, and he took a deep breath to shake it off. He lowered his mouth to the Blue Paladin's ear. " _Lance!_ " he yelled. "Wake the fuck up!"

Lance finally stirred and groaned, and Keith carried his gaze to the ceiling, sighing with relief. Lance blinked owlishly, looking at him with pale, unfocused eyes. He still seemed rather disoriented, but at least he was awake.

"Good afternoon," Keith said and shoved the nutrition bar in his face. "Eat this. Now. Then drink some water."

Lance turned his head away, closing his eyes again. "Not hungry," he moaned.

"I don't care." Keith now realized a light blush on Lance's cheeks under all the bruises – probably from being wrapped in all these blankets for so long. Well, it was time to do something about it. He grabbed the edge of the blanket plie and pulled it away from Lance, exposing his upper body. But instead of protesting and yelling profanities at him, Lance only whimpered and curled back into himself, shivering violently.

Okay, that was just _wrong._ The foreboding feeling returned to Keith's guts. "Hey, are you alright?" he asked hesitantly. "It isn't _that_ cold in here." A thought crossed his mind then, and he took off one of his gloves, pressing the back of his hand to the other boy's forehead.

It was like touching white-hot iron.

Keith froze for a moment. Then, he shouted, " _Pidge!_ Get in here, _now!_ "

The Green Paladin sprinted into the cabin, barely skidding to a stop without falling forward. "What happened?" she asked, eyes widening as she caught the sight of Lance.

"I'm pretty sure there's a thermometer in the first aid kit," Keith barked. "Go get it."

She brought him the thermometer – a gun-like object that could indicate a human's temperature by merely holding it in front of their faces.

The number it showed when he held it near Lance's forehead was 102.5.

Keith and Pidge both cursed.

"But _how?"_ Pidge said, staring at the sick Paladin with disbelief. "He was fine yesterday – I mean, not _fine_ , he was injured and exhausted and all… but he wasn't sick. It-it just came out of nowhere. Maybe one of his wounds got infected?"

"I checked his undersuit yesterday, it was whole – no holes or tears," Keith said, his mind racing. "And since it's impossible to get cut without your clothes getting cut as well… maybe it's something he caught on the Galra ship?"

Pidge paled. "Do you think they… they _gave_ him something…?" she shuddered, and Keith knew she was thinking about Shiro and the experiments the Galra had forced on him during his captivity.

The thought was enough to make _him_ nauseas, but he had to compose himself and think straight. "I didn't see a lab or lab tools back there," he said. "It was a simple cargo ship…" and besides, he had a feeling Lance's captors wouldn't know what to do with a syringe even if they had one. They didn't come across as particularly intelligent during their short encounter.

Pidge pushed her glasses up her nose, like she did when she was thinking hard. "Maybe it's something he caught _before_ he was captured, then. Hey, Lance?" she turned to the sick Paladin, who seemed to have fallen asleep again. "What happened on the jungle planet? Before you were captured?"

Lance grunted, clearly annoyed by all the interruptions. "I fell 'nto a swamp," he slurred without opening his eyes. "'s how they got me. I was stuck." Suddenly he scrunched his face as if he was going to cry. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding so miserable it actually made Keith's heart ache.

"It's alright," Pidge said gently, already getting up to fetch her laptop. "I have an idea."

She typed rapidly for a few minutes, her screen filled with all kinds of lists and charts Keith didn't even try to understand. "I mapped that planet before we went there," she explained, "Including all kinds of details on its flora. There it is," she leaned closer to read something on the screen, and her face fell. "Okay, so apparently the jungles on this planet are known for their poisonous swamps. According to my analysis, they have all kinds of parasites living in them that are _really_ not good for humans. This must be the reason he's so sick." Her shoulders sank as she had another realization. "That's why he was so cold yesterday... I thought it was strange, but I guessed he was just tired."

Keith felt a pang of guilt for pulling the blankets off Lance so aggressively earlier. "Whatever he has, it probably took a couple of days to fester," he said quietly. "If we'd gotten him to a pod yesterday, it would have healed him and we wouldn't even know he had it."

"But we can't treat it now, not here!" Pidge looked at him, panic written all over her face. "We don't have antibiotics, or-or any medication other than painkillers! If we don't get to the Castle soon, he's only going to get worse until he's…" her lips trembled and she fell silent.

Keith closed his eyes for a moment, realizing with a heavy heart he was the oldest person in the current situation. Pidge was one of the bravest people he knew, and definitely the smartest; but she was also a young girl who has learned to see her teammates as older brothers. And one of her brothers was currently very, very ill, and there was not much she could do about it.

She was justly scared, and she needed Keith to be strong and tell her everything would be okay.

If only Shiro were here.

But he wasn't, and all the three of them had right now was each other.

He needed to step up.

Keith opened his eyes, squaring his shoulders. "We can't treat the parasite, but we can at least try to get his temperature down. You said there were ice bags here, right? We can use them."

Pidge's eyes widened. "I can't believe I hadn't thought about it until now. Keith, you're a genius!"

Keith looked away, trying to hide the way his cheeks reddened all of a sudden. "Whatever. J-just go get them."

He set about peeling the blankets off the rest of Lance's body while Pidge went for the ice bags. Lance whimpered again, squirming as he tried to find a new position to warm himself up.

"Sorry, man," Keith said, and he truly meant that. "But we need to cool you down. You'll feel better once your fever breaks," he added, doubting it was true.

They had a long couple of hours ahead of them, if not days. There was no way to know how long the particle storm would last and keep them stranded here, unable to contact the outside world and seek help.

He just hoped Lance would last longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I totally thought about the no-contact thermometer because of the coronavirus XDXDXD #sorrynotsorry


	4. Four

"There, there," Pidge murmured and rubbed circles around Lance's back while the latter heaved and spat into a trash bin she'd found earlier at the back of her Lion, figuring it would come in handy. "Get it all out." Not that there was too much to get out – she honestly couldn't understand how come Lance kept vomiting considering all he had in his stomach was water. Well, perhaps this was just how illnesses worked.

Lance spat one last time and collapsed back on the cot. His face was completely white under all the bruises, which have already turned more yellow than purple. The sight was quite grotesque.

"Sorry you had to see that," he choked and embraced his injured arm to his nearly-equally-injured chest. Pidge thought she'd never seen someone so miserable, and she wanted to scream with frustration because there was _nothing_ she could do other than sit there and watch her friend suffer. And the endless desert that reflected through the windows only made it harder for her to think straight. Perhaps Hunk and Yellow would have thrived here, being the Guardians of the Earth and all, but Pidge? She took inspiration from the cool, soothing wisdom of the forest, from the endless branches and vinces interwining together like a net of ideas. Had they crushed in the middle of a forest, Green would have probably be awake by now. But all they had was empty sands that made Pidge's brain feel emptier than ever. Her only job now was to watch Lance in the unresponsive Lion as Keith had gone out again to look for real food and possible threats. It wasn't a particularly delightful task, and Lance's repetitive apologies – as if getting sick was his fault – were definitely not helping.

Pidge tried to put up her most cheerful smile, though she doubted it was convincing. "Hey, I've seen Hunk puke in our Garrison simulators countless time. It's really not that exciting anymore."

Lance's lower lip trembled, and Pidge wondered whether by mentioning Hunk she somehow made things worse, as Lance has obviously been missing his best friend. She slapped herself mentally. She did not envy anyone who got to be sick _and_ stranded in space with her and Keith – the most emotionally-challenged members of their group.

She tried a different approach. "Hey, remember when I got my first period on the Castle and I was late for training because my stomach hurt? You were really cool about that, gave me your heat pillow and all." She smiled at the memory. Of course, at first she'd been embarrassed to the roots of her hair when she realized Lance knew she was on her period; but once she overcame the initial shock, she found it quite comforting to have a friend she could trust on these things. After all, none of the other boys had any sisters, and Allura tended to get overexcited about any opportunity to have a 'girl talk' with Pidge in a way which made the Green Paladin rather uncomfortable.

Lance frowned, staring at her with unfocused eyes. "Really? I don' remember that… but my brain's all mushy now, so…"

Pidge sighed. Well, she tried. "Anyway, you took real good care of me back then. So consider this me returning the favor, and stop apologizing."

Lance closed his eyes, which Pidge decided to take as a sign of consent. But then a sudden, violent shiver wrecked his body and he whimpered. "C-cold."

"I know, but I can't give you your blankets back, not with that fever." The ice bags Keith and her had placed on Lance's forehead and body had managed to bring his temperature down a bit (the last time she checked it was just over 101). However, at some point the ice started to melt, and she had to put the bags back in the freezer so they could use them again.

Lance cracked his eyes open again. "Then tell me a story," he said, his tone all but pleading. "F-for distraction. Please. Anything."

Pidge tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Let me think… oh, remember I told you yesterday I broke my arm as a kid? Do you want to hear the story behind that?"

Lance hummed.

Pidge leaned back, crossing her arms behind her head. "It happened when I was nine. Matt and I tried to build a 'flying machine'… it was basically a pair of mechanical wings connected to a small engine. We used parts our dad brought from work and worked on it all summer in the back yard."

"Normal kids usually spend their summer at the beach, but whatever," Lance said.

"Anyway, on the last day of the summer vacation, we finally put it to the test," Pidge continued. "Matt wanted to try it first because he was older and wanted to make sure it was safe, but I was too excited to give up. I climbed on the roof of our house, put the wings on and jumped off, expecting the wind to carry me all the way to the edge of the street. I was just _dying_ to see the faces of the other kids when they see my flying over their heads. I even stacked some water bags to throw on them from above."

Lance laughed, wincing as it jarred his wounds. "Oh my gosh, Pidge, you were a such a _nasty_ little girl."

"They deserved it!" Pidge called. "They called me a nerd!"

"Well, you _are_ a nerd!"

Pidge huffed. "Anyway… that didn't go as planned, as you probably guessed. One moment I was on the roof and the next one I was face-planting the grass in our yard. I can still remember Matt's screams… he thought I was dead." The thought of her brother made her chest warm but also pierced it with a pang of longing. How long has it been since she last saw him? A year? Two years? It was hard to track time when you were fighting an intergalactic war.

"How did your parents react?" Lance asked.

"Oh, my mom was _furious._ I wouldn't be surprised if Matt had his hearing permanently damaged from how she yelled at him. Although it was me who jumped off the roof, he was the older one – he was supposed to watch me and keep me out of danger." _But who was watching_ you _when you got kidnapped by the Galra, Matt?_ A lump formed in Pidge's throat and she struggled to swallow past it. "Dad was also quite shaken when he found out what happened – but I caught him later that night examining the machine we built in the garage. I think he was actually trying to find a way to improve it and make it fly for real." She sighed. "That it, until Mom realized what he was doing and put it in the trash. But hey, I wasn't too upset about what happened – after all, I didn't have to do any schoolwork for a month because I couldn't use my arm. Including sports class, which was the real treat."

Lance rolled his eyes. "My siblings and I have never got hurt doing something _smart_ ," he muttered. "We just beat each other up all the time."

"There were five of you, right? I guess it was inevitable."

"Except Veronica," Lance continued as if he hadn't heard her. " _She_ was the smart one. Never got into stupid fights like the rest of us. Which is probably why she became an officer." He stared at the wall for a while as if lost in thought. Then, he smiled sadly. "No one in my family expected me to follow her lead and go to the Garrison. Everyone was so surprised when I got in… they must've thought I was too dumb for that."

"You're not dumb," Pidge quickly protested, and yet her stomach clenched in guilt as she remembered she called Lance dumb as least twice a week. Of course, she didn't _actually_ believe that…

…but she never bothered to tell him that, either.

It seemed like her friendship skills still needed some work.

"Think of how proud they would have been of you if they'd known you were a Paladin of Voltron," she said, determined cheer Lance up. "I mean, the Blue Lion didn't just choose you for no reason."

Lance didn't seem convinced. In fact, Pidge could see the edges of his mouth tremble as he fought to keep his smile in place. "I'm pretty sure she chose me because there was no one else around for like ten thousand years," he said. "It's like how I got promoted to be a fighter pilot only because Keith was kicked out of class. And they didn't kick him out because he was a bad pilot, but because of discipline issues. That doesn't change the fact he's probably still a better pilot than Iverson himself."

Pidge felt a hot wave of rage wash over her at the mention of their former commander. Even if the insults Iverson shot at Lance, Hunk and her were usually justified (after all, they _did_ suck as a team), Lance was usually the one whom he liked to reprimand the most, although he'd never done a worse job than his teammates when it came to group simulators. She knew it wasn't exactly boosting his self-esteem – but she'd never imagined his insecurities ran _that_ deep.

And when she thought about all the times _she_ lashed out at him for nothing…

…she realized she was no better than Iverson.

She needed to fix this.

She might not be able to do much about his illness, but there was no way she was going to let him keep walking (or lying) around with all these negative feelings eating him from the inside.

Not when he was the one who reminded her of her lost brother the most.

"Lance," she said. "You are a _great_ Paladin. I can't even tell how many times you and Blue saved our asses when we were fighting the Galra, not to mention that you can probably hit any target from any point in the universe." She truly meant the last part – although Lance didn't particularly shine in their close combat trainings, he was the best sniper she'd ever seen, and watching him take down a swarm of twenty drones with no more than twenty shots was always mesmerizing.

"But there are so many things that are more important than being the best fighter, or the best pilot," she continued. "Like being kind, and thoughtful, and-and looking out for your friends even if it means risking your own life. Did you forget how you saved Coran from that blast when we were on Arus? We've only been in space for a few days back then – and yet you nearly died for saving someone you've barely known. Unlike me," she said, unable to hold back her bitterness, "who was just about to bail on you guys when the bomb went off."

"You had a good reason," Lance said quietly. "You wanted to find your family."

Pidge shook her head. "I know. But abandoning my other family wasn't the solution, not when there is so much on the line." She let out a humorless laugh. "It's kind of horrible, isn't it? The fact it took a bomb that nearly killed you to make me stop taking you for granted."

It was hard reading Lance's expression at her sudden confession. Pidge felt her cheeks burn, wondering if the last sentence had crossed some line. But then Lance gagged violently and brought his hand to his mouth, and Pidge quickly reached for the trash bin and placed it in Lance's lap.

However, nothing came out this time – not even saliva. Lance dry-heaved and hiccupped a few times, then pushed the bin away, holding his abdomen with his healthy arm. Agony was written all over his face, which was white as chalk - save for his cheeks, which actually went several shades redder than before. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and Pidge feared his fever was spiking again. She'd probably have to fetch those ice bags again soon.

"Sorry," she didn't know what else to say. All this heart-to-heart talk suddenly seemed ridiculous with him in such a miserable state.

"It's not you fault, Rachel," Lance turned to look at her, eyes completely glazed over. " _¿Puedes llamar a mamá?_ "

Pidge felt her stomach dive, leaving a black hole at the center of her body.

_What?_

She was just about to grab the thermometer when she heard a thud – Keith must have jumped inside through the door at the top of Green's head. He entered the cabin a moment later, staring ahead as if he'd seen a ghost. His pallor was noticeable even in the weak light of the back cabin.

"What happened?" Pidge really couldn't take any more bad news. If Keith was getting sick as well…

Keith plopped onto the floor as there were no chairs in the cabin. "I found the remains of the cargo ship that kidnapped Lance." He closed his eyes and took a long breath through his nose. "The other Galra… the one I knocked unconscious… he, uh, he didn't make it."

"Oh." Pidge figured whatever Keith had seen must have not been the prettiest sight, considering how shaken he was, but she did feel immense relief at the fact he was not sick. "Well… I'm sorry, but we have bigger problems right now."

Keith blinked, then turned to look at Lance as if only now realizing he was there. "Did he get any worse?"

"Well, he called me by the name of his sister and spoke to me in Spanish, so that answers your question. I was just about to take his temperature when you came in." Pidge held the thermometer in front of Lance's forehead, cursing when the result popped on the screen a second later. 103.1.

Keith got up, completely alert again. "This is bad," he said. "The sun's already set and the storm doesn't even seem close to an end – we can't keep him in this state for much longer." He was stating the obvious, but Pidge held herself from throwing a sarcastic comeback; he was probably just as scared and helpless as her.

"We can take the ice bags from the freezer," she said. "They helped last time, there's no reason they won't help now." _Unless Lance has already gotten so sick nothing would help at this point_ , she thought and her chest tightened with dread.

Keith nodded. "Alright. I'll take care of that. You can go rest if you like. You've watched him long enough."

"No, I can stay," Pidge said. "It's not like I have anything better to do. Besides, I've been sitting on my ass all day - it can't be more tiring than running around in the desert."

Keith sighed. "If only I found anything useful with all that running around," he said gloomily. "But all I've seen was sand and dust. And dead Galra." He swallowed thickly at the memory.

"Hey, at least we don't have to worry about them seeking for revenge," Pidge said.

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose. "I guess you're right." He had dark bags under his eyes – Pidge took a mental note to make him go to bed soon. She hoped he didn't suffer a heatstroke; she'd fucking _kill_ him if he did.

Still, she was grateful she had someone to share this stressful situation with. Had she been stuck in here alone with a sick Lance… the mere thought made her shudder.

But even with Keith by her side, rescue could never come any sooner.

Because with Lance only getting sicker and sicker, they were running out of time.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance if I have any mistakes in Spanish, I used Google Translate.

" _¡Déjame solo, Marco!_ " Lance panted, struggling to sit up and staring blindly ahead of him. " _Quiero dormir, no puedo ir a alimentar al gato_."

Keith had no idea what he was saying. But the Blue Paladin was clearly hallucinating, as Keith did remember Marco was the name of one of his brothers, and that guy was currently lightyears away.

He gently pushed Lance back to a lying position. Hallucinating or not, Keith couldn't have someone in his condition moving around the room and hurting himself further. The ice bag that rested on Lance's head fell off when he tried to sit, and Keith put it back in place – though he doubted the ice was doing any difference at this point. Lance's fever had stayed persistent for the last couple of hours, sending the sick boy reeling between sleep so deep Keith had to check several times he was still breathing, and bouts of distressed wakefulness, where he'd either moan in pain or babble in his mother tongue.

It was all very frustrating and tiring for Keith, who's developed his own headache from his rounds in the boiling heat this planet produced, living on nothing more than two nutrition bars a day (he was pretty sure he was dehydrated, too, after trying to save most of their water supply for Lance; but he didn't say anything to Pidge, as he didn't want to scare the girl further. It's been hard enough to convince her to get some sleep and let him take first watch, stressing they couldn't _both_ be too sleep-deprived to function).

He _hated_ being so helpless, stuck in the small, dark Lion like this. He wasn't the kind of guy who would sit around and wait for things to happen – he _made_ them happen. He wouldn't spend hours by the bedside of an ill friend, holding their hand and murmuring soothing words – he was never good at comforting others; he would go and stab whoever did this to them in the face, that's what he'd do.

The thought brought back the sight of the slain Galra, trapped under the wreckage of their ship in the middle of the desert, and Keith buried his head between his knees and just breathed for a moment. He had seen some disgusting stuff in this war, but some things were impossible to get used to.

Just like there were some enemies that were impossible to beat with his sword alone.

Not for the first time, Keith wished Shiro was here. Or even Hunk. The latter would do a much better job in calming Lance down and bringing him back from his fever dreams.

As if on cue, Lance opened a pair of red-rimmed eyes and stared right at him. Keith braced himself for another hallucination, but what the boy said – with surprising lucidity – was, "You're not Marco."

Keith raised an eyebrow. "No, I'm not," he said. Then, for some reason, he added, "Sorry about that."

Lance's shoulders bucked in disappointment, as if hearing that from Keith himself smashed his last hope of seeing his brother. "We…" he shivered and made a clumsy attempt to hug himself with one arm. "Are we ever gonna go back?"

"To the Castle? Of course we are. We just need to ride out this storm, and then we can locate the others in no time."

Lance was clearly uncomforted by the answer as his lower lip trembled. "I meant… are we ever gonna go back _home._ T-t-to Earth."

 _Oh._ Keith looked at the ceiling, praying for someone to help him through this conversation. "Eventually, yes, I suppose," he said.

"You don't sound like you believe it," Lance grunted.

"Well, what do you want me to say?!" Keith burst out – he knew it was wrong, he knew he needed to be more sensitive, but he was exhausted and hungry and his headache was getting worse by the minute – "I can't tell the future! I don't know how this part of the universe works! Honestly, as far as I know, we can all die from starvation before the storm even ends!"

_Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._

Keith's ears rang, foul taste stood in his mouth. He expected Lance to yell back at him – hell, he _deserved_ that – just like how their usual fights went. But all Lance did was turn away from him – or, at least he tried to, because that meant lying on the side of his bad arm, and he hissed in pain after putting the slightest weight on it. He sighed in defeat and closed his eyes. "Sorry," he whispered.

"No, _I'm_ sorry," Keith rubbed the side of his head, his face warm. "It's been a… tough couple of days, that's all. But I shouldn't take this out on you. It's not your fault."

"Pidge said the same," Lance said without opening his eyes. "You two are _really_ working hard to make me feel less crappy about myself, y'know?"

"Are you complaining?" Keith asked, a tentative smile tugging at his lips.

Lance gave a one-shouldered shrug. "It's just funny, the fact that I need to be practically dying for you to be nice to me."

The smile vanished from Keith's face.

He opened his mouth to argue…

…but no argument came out, as he realized deep inside of him there was a tiny grain of truth in Lance's words.

It was as if someone had just kicked him in the guts.

Apparently, Lance was shaken by his own words as well, as his face darkened in a way that had nothing to do with his temperature and be brought his left palm to cover his eyes. "Oh man. I don't know why I said that. _Mi cabeza está en llamas_."

"Hey, it's okay – " Keith spread his hands in a soothing gesture as the other boy began to thrash and claw at his undersuit as if he was trying to peel it off.

"H-hot," he blurted out, even though his teeth chattered as he spoke. " _Estoy tan caliente,_ get if off, get it _off_ …"

Keith's heart skipped a beat. This was the first time Lance complained about being hot instead of cold. He didn't know whether it was a good sign or not – he had no idea how space viruses worked – but one thing he was certain of: he needed to calm the boy down before he hyperventilated or hurt himself in any way.

He grabbed Lance's left wrist. Lance whimpered, but Keith did not let go. "You can't take off your undersuit – not with your arm wrapped like that," he pointed with his chin at the improvised sling. Cutting through the fabric with his blade was not an option either, since Keith didn't trust himself to be focused enough or Lance to stay still enough, and the last thing the latter needed was another wound.

"We still have some bandages left," he said. "I can rinse them with water and wipe your face, okay? It'll make you feel better."

Lance's eyes still radiated utter panic, but since he stopped struggling, Keith wasted no time waiting for consent and made a beeline for the first aid kit and the water jerrycan he stored at the corner of the room. He regretted not putting it in the fridge, but it was better than nothing. He walked back to Lance with the soaked bandages, kneeled in front of the cot and started wiping Lance's face in slow movements, trying to be as careful as possible around the bruises littering the pale skin.

Lance sighed and Keith felt him relaxing a bit under his touch. " _Esto se siente bien,_ " he croaked.

"A-ha," Keith said, confused.

Lance licked his dry lips. " _Gracias, Papá_ ," he said, and before Keith had the chance to blush because he _did_ get that last word, Lance was out. Whether he fell asleep or passed out, Keith wasn't sure, but he was grateful for not having to pretend he was Lance's father. His nerves could only handle this much.

"What's going on?" a voice asked from behind him and Keith jumped, nearly dropping the bandages. Pidge stood at the door, yawning and rubbing her eyes. "I heard yelling… wasn't sure at first if I was dreaming or not."

Keith looked at his sleeping teammate. "He was hallucinating again, and complaining he was hot. But I wiped his face with some wet bandages and that helped a little," he said curtly, unwilling to elaborate.

"Good." Pidge said and sat next to him on the floor. "Well, since I'm already awake, I can take it from here. No offense, but you look like you got run over by the Yellow Lion."

Keith threw the bandages away as they got too lukewarm to be helpful. "I'm fine," he said, but couldn't resist the need to rub his knuckles against his eyes. "But I'm not good at this."

"Me neither," Pidge admitted. "Hunk is the Mother Theresa among us. I'm better with computers than with people."

Keith huffed. "You have no idea how much I relate to that. But in my case, it's not computers. Training bots, maybe."

Pidge patted his shoulder. "But I know you care. You looked after us since we crashed here, going out in this heat and all. And you're doing a great job taking care of Lance, too."

Her last words stung him like a needle. He bit his lips and looked at his lap. "He keeps apologizing," he mumbled, "Like it's his fault."

"Yeah…" Pidge said, looking thoughtful. "I feel like we… we're too harsh on him sometimes. In training, or in missions. I always laugh at him for calling himself 'the sharpshooter'…" she shook her head. "And I don't even know why. He _is_ a great sniper."

"Yeah, but – he's making fun of other people, too!" Keith said, knowing he was being awfully childish, but he couldn't help it. "All these jokes about my hair, and-and me being his 'nemesis' or whatever! I never understand why he says all these things!"

Pidge smiled sadly. "Isn't it obvious? He's jealous of your skills. Keith, the guy _admires_ you. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have been so obsessed with you."

Keith stared at her in confusion. "Are you sure? Because he has a funny way of showing that."

"He talked about you earlier. He said you were a better pilot than Iverson."

Keith felt as if someone threw a bucket of icy water at him. " _Lance_ said that? Are you sure you're not hallucinating as well?"

"Look, Lance comes from a big family, the youngest out of five brothers and sisters," Pidge said patiently. "He's used to getting into fights and being loud – it was probably his only way to get people's attention. And you know how much he misses his family – " a shadow passed through her eyes for a moment and Keith, who still remembered yelling at her for wanting to leave the team to find her father and brother, suddenly felt very ashamed of himself – "Maybe he's teasing you because that's what he used to do with his brothers, and he wants to recreate that experience. So, you should actually be flattered."

They sat silent for a while as her words sank. Then, Keith said with a small smile, "Are you sure you're better with computers than with people?"

Pidge's cheeks pinkened. "I… don't know? I guess being stuck in your Lion for two days straight makes you think…" she shuffled uncomfortably and tinkered with her glasses, not looking at him directly. "Anyway, you should go to bed! The sun's about to rise and I'm _not_ letting you out there again before you get some sleep."

Keith smirked at her attempt to change the subject, but he couldn't argue with his need of sleep, especially as he started to feel dizzy from exhaustion. He stood up and dragged himself on unsteady feet to the cockpit, where the pilot chair was still set horizontally. The soft light of the peach-colored, clear sky poured through the windshield, indicating another day was around the corner.

Keith was just about to lower himself to the chair when he froze.

 _Clear_ sky?

He ran to the windshield and looked closely, squeezing his nose against the glass. The sky, which has been dusty and grainy for the past two days, was now so bright and clean he could make out the shape of the sun coming up in the horizon, yellow and smooth as butter. It reminded him of the sunrises he used to watch with his father when he was still alive, just the two of them in the middle of the desert, and a pinch of longing pierced his heart – but he had no time to think about it right now.

"Pidge, I think the storm is over!" he exclaimed.

Pidge bolted from the back cabin and stared through the windshield in disbelief. A huge grin spread on her face. " _Finally!_ " she called. "Green will probably be back online soon, and we can call the Castle and get the hell out of – "

The smile vanished from her face at once, and her eyes rounded behind the glasses in terror.

Keith looked out again and felt his stomach sink.

A black spot stained the pink horizon. It became larger and larger as it approached the Green Lion in terrifying speed, quickly materializing into something more than just a spot.

A Galra warship.


	6. Six

The Red and Green Paladins stood frozen for a few seconds that felt like forever, staring at the enemy ship speeding toward them with horror.

Then, Pidge inhaled sharply and walked to the pilot chair, pulling it back vertically. She placed both her palms and the tip of her forehead on the console, closing her eyes.

"Green, please wake up," she whispered. "We need you and we need you _now._ " _Lance needs you, because he won't survive another captivity._ "Come on, girl. _Please._ " She prayed so hard it physically hurt.

She felt the roar at the back of her mind before actually hearing it. Her eyes flew open to see the cockpit lit up with the bright colors of the control panel, the familiar buttons and graphics welcoming her like an old friend.

She felt like a rock had just slid off her chest – although the real threat has yet to be removed. "That's my girl," she said with a grin and patted the console – a gesture answered by a soft purr that warmed her from the inside.

"Send the Castle a distress signal," Keith said sharply. His bayard was already in his hand. "We may be able to avoid them for a while, but we can't fight them alone. This is a full-size armored battleship – I doubt Green's mouth canon will so much as scrape it."

Pidge did as he said, hoping with all her might the Castle was in a close enough range to get her signal. "How did they find us so quickly?!" she called while pulling the joystick backwards. "Did they just ambush us this whole time?!"

"That makes sense," Keith said and held tight onto the back of her chair as the Green Lion leaped into the sky, leaving huge puffs of orange dust behind. "I mean, they were probably notified that two of their soldiers have captured a Paladin; they must have drawn their conclusions when the connection to the cargo ship was lost right above this planet and sent back up – "

A loud thud and a yelp cut him off and both he and Pidge paled in realization.

They have completely forgotten Lance was passed out on the cot in the back cabin, without a belt or anything to keep him in his place while the Green Lion bolted and zig-zagged through the atmosphere.

Keith hurried to the back cabin and found the Blue Paladin lying in a fetal position on the floor next to the cot, grabbing his right arm and greeting his teeth, probably to hold back another cry of pain. Despite his efforts, tears were glistening at the corners of his eyes. The sight was downright heartbreaking.

"Sorry," Keith kneeled next to him while glancing at the cockpit, knowing it was only a matter of time until he had to fight for real. "But we needed a quick escape because the Galra are here. Apparently they ambushed us."

He wondered if Lance was lucid enough to understand the situation – after all, the last time he was awake he mistook Keith for his father – but Lance focused his gaze on him and asked in a small, tired voice: "Does this mean the storm is over?"

Okay, so he _was_ lucid, at least for now. Small comforts and everything. "Yeah. We already sent the Castle a distress signal, we hope they get it soon. Until then," he bucked as Green took a sharp turn to the left, automatically leaning forward to shelter Lance with his own body – the huge blast that pierced his ears a moment later told him they just avoided the enemy's fire – "We'll have to hold them off, somehow." He didn't mention the strong possibility they'd have to face the Galra in a close combat, assuming Lance was smart enough to figure it out on his own.

Lance sighed and pulled himself upright with what looked like tremendous effort, teetering and swallowing hard as if fighting the urge to throw up again. Keith couldn't blame him. In fact, he was rather impressed Lance could even move considering how hurt and feverish he was. Perhaps the imminent danger they were all in had sent his adrenaline pumping. "Fetch me my helmet and bayard," he mumbled.

Keith quirked an eyebrow. The helmet was a reasonable request – Lance really couldn't afford a head injury at this point. But the bayard? He appreciated the chivalry, but there was a fine line between that and pure madness. "How are you expecting to shoot anything with that arm? You can't even hold it."

"Shut up and bring it!" Lance flared. He seemed ready to pass out just from the effort of raising his voice, but Keith was so shocked at the sudden aggressiveness he did exactly as he was told.

Lance barely managed to put his helmet on when another blast was heard, this time way closer, and the whole Lion shook and rattled. "They brought back up!" they heard Pidge yell. "Four bombers – they're small and way faster than the main ship! I don't think I can hold them off much longer!"

" _Fuck_ ," Keith hissed and ran back to the cockpit – not that there was too much he could do from here, as he was far from his own Lion.

He just made it inside when a third blast sent him flying forward and his shoulder hit the windshield forcefully. As he slipped to the floor, despite having his entire side burning with pain, he figured at some corner of his mind something terrible had happened – which was instantly confirmed by the feeling of his stomach leaping to his throat, indicating they were plummeting rapidly.

The Green Lion had taken a direct hit.

"No, no, _no_ ," Pidge called, hitting random parts of the control panel in hopes _something_ will wake up the unresponsive Lion – to no avail. "Not _again_ , come on, this isn't happening…"

But it _was_ happening, and there was nothing they could do to avoid the crash that came a few moments later, when the Lion hit the sands they'd just got out of and all the lights went off.

Keith got up on unsteady feet, rolling his shoulder gingerly – it hurt like hell, but the armor seemed to have protected it from break or dislocation. Pidge was slumped in her chair, glasses askew, but she didn't seem hurt, either.

Keith turned to look at Green's mouth which, to his dismay, was slightly open – probably from the shock of the crash. Knowing this would make it a lot easier for the Galra to get them, he went and stood protectively in front of the console, his bayard raised and ready. Although the three of them were likely to get captured soon, there was no way he was going to just let the Galra take them without giving them the taste of his sword first.

"Paladins of Voltron!" A deep, accented voice echoed from outside – the Galra commander, probably, speaking to them directly through the ship's PA system. "You are surrounded and outnumbered! I will give you one chance to surrender your Lion and weapons to us peacefully. If you do not come out with your hands behind your heads within the next dobash, we will have to take you by force!"

"Yeah, like _hell_ we do that," Pidge said through greeted teeth. She was standing now as well, tazer held tightly at her hand.

"You two, stop standing there and get behind the console," a hoarse, strained voice said from behind them.

Keith and Pidge turned sharply, thinking for a moment it was a Galra soldier who somehow managed to get in – but it was Lance, standing and leaning heavily on the wall as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. His face was ashen and his eyes bloodshot under the helmet, and his right arm…

Oh _Quiznak_ , his right arm.

It was no longer wrapped in the sling they'd improvised from bandages, so now they could see clearly how swollen and _wrong_ his wrist looked as it held the blue bayard, white fingers clenching the handle in a death grip. Lance's lips were pursed in a thin, trembling line of bottled up agony, and he barely moved them as he repeated weakly, "I said, get behind the console."

"Lance, what the fuck are you doing?!" Pidge screeched. "Stay _back!_ The Galra are going to barge in here any minute now!"

"Do you know where you are?" Keith asked carefully, fearing it was another hallucination. If Lance thought _they_ were Galra and was trying to attack them… his own hand shook around the sword.

But Lance looked at him directly and said, "Of course I know, Mullet. I'm not _that_ brain-damaged yet. Now, are you going to move or not?"

" _No!_ " Pidge cried and took a step forward, and suddenly Keith wondered whether she was about to electrocute Lance to push him out of the way. "This isn't the time to play the hero, Lance! You're _sick_! You can barely even stand! So, unless you're planning to fight the Galra by puking on their shoes – "

Lance ignored her and dragged himself to the console, leaning his bayard – which now took its more advanced form of a long-range sniper rifle – on it. Now that he was close Keith noticed he was sweating profoundly. "I've got an idea," he panted, "But I'll probably only get one shot, so I need you to trust me and _get behind the console_. On the floor."

Keith and Pidge exchanged puzzled looks. On a regular day, they would trust Lance's aim without a second thought; but when he was in such a poor state, looking ready to collapse the moment someone so much as breathed in his direction…

Nevertheless, when Keith met Lance's eyes again, he saw no fear or hesitation behind the haze of sickness and exhaustion.

He saw pure, sheer determination.

As if there was no option other than defeating these Galra.

And Keith had no option other than to believe that.

He was just about to lower his sword when the Galra commander spoke again. "Your dobash is over, Paladins. Seems like we will have to do this the hard way." They could practically hear the cruel smile in his last couple of words.

Keith grabbed Pidge's arm and pulled her down with him to kneel behind the console. She opened her mouth in protest, but closed it again after looking up to Lance, who stood like a statue in his sniper position, one leg slightly bent in front of him.

His gaze fixated through the scope on an unknown target outside Green's mouth and he closed one eye. He took a long, deep breath, exhaling slowly as his right finger flexed and pressed against the trigger.

And then he fired.

An explosion so powerful it seemed to explode inside their own heads ensued, along with a flash of bright, orange light that shone through the windshield and blinded them temporarily. Keith and Pidge curled instinctively and covered their helmets with their hands while Lance was thrown backwards against the wall, his cry of pain muted in the chaos that took place outside. The cockpit was soon filled with unbearable heat, and the black, thick smoke that entered through the gap between Green's jaws burned their eyes and throats as they hadn't closed their visors in advance.

"W-what…" Pidge coughed violently, covering her mouth. "What just…" her other hand felt blindly around the air until it met the Blue Paladin's knee. She opened her eyes to a silver and saw him slumped against the wall, barely conscious, his right arm resting uselessly on the floor.

He stirred at her touch and coughed as well, albeit weakly, as he barely had any strength left. "I shot their gas tank," he wheezed, tears spilling freely down his cheeks from the combination of pain and smoke.

"You _what?_ " Keith croaked, his own eyes tearing up. Every inch in his body burned and ached, but through the smoke that filled his brain he realized this was a sign of him being alive – unlike the Galra whose ship had just gone up in flames, most likely grilling everyone on it.

"I knew… we didn't stand a chance against them…" Lance choked on his words, clutching his chest with his left hand. "And I had a… clean shot from here… 't was the only way." Suddenly his injured arm spasmed he _wailed_ , eyes rolling backwards as he pitched to the floor and stayed there, paralyzed with pain.

A memory surfaced in Keith's mind then: the clear image of Lance summoning his bayard out of a coma and shooting Sendak, who is holding Pidge to the point of strangulation, in the back, making him drop the girl free.

But right now, blasting an entire Galra warship with a single shot, sick and feverish _and_ with a broken arm…

Lance might have just outdone himself.

A sharpshooter, indeed.

"You are amazing," Keith said quietly, bowing his head down and placing his palm on Lance's back. The boy didn't move, having finally lost consciousness.

"Aaand another bonding moment had gone to waste," Pidge said and tried to laugh, although it quickly turned into a coughing fit. "Still," she spattered between coughs, "we have to find a way out of here before we all choke to d – "

"Pidge? Pidge, do you copy?" a fourth voice, one that they hadn't heard in ages, rang in their comms and they both froze in surprise.

_Shiro._

"Shiro!" Pidge nearly screamed through clogged lungs, her eyes brightening under the layer of soot covering her face. "Yes, we hear you!"

"Oh, thank God," Shiro sighed, followed by a cacophony of cheering sounds – Coran, Allura and Hunk. "We've just located the Green Lion on TAZ-19X after getting your distress signal, but there's a huge fire right next to it – what happened? Are you guys okay? Keith, Lance, can you talk?"

"We're okay," Keith said, his stomach performing a small dance at hearing his big brother's voice after so long. "We inhaled some smoke and we're pretty banged up, but all things considered, we're doing great." He glanced at the paladin lying next to him. "Um, but Lance needs a pod ASAP. He… he's _not_ doing so great."

"What happened?" Hunk interfered, sounding hysterical as expected. "Lance, it's Hunk, talk to me!"

"He's unconscious," Pidge said. "We'll explain everything later, but you should know that he's just saved our lives." Her eyes met Keith's and he nodded.

"That's right," he said. "Without him, we might've not been talking to you right now."

The line was silent for a while as their friends pondered that information. Then, Shiro said, "Alright. You can tell us everything after we get Lance the treatment he needs. We're lowering altitude now, see you in a minute."

He hung up and both Keith and Pidge leaned back on the console, their limbs growing weak as all the stress and anxiety from the past few days finally rolled off them.

They were found. It was finally over.

***

"I just killed your king." Pidge moved her last pawn, a devious smile on her face. Keith and her have been spending the day in Lance's bedroom, playing a complicated Altean board game called "Kings and Troops" whose rules Keith could barely understand (it was similar to chess, but with about a thousand more rules, _and_ in 3D). As of now, Pidge had won fourteen out of fourteen rounds.

Keith frowned. "Can't we play something _I'm_ good at for a change?"

"What, punching training bots?" Pidge started collecting the pawns for another round. "You can't exactly do that here… and we agreed to be here when sleeping beauty wakes up, remember?"

It has been nearly three days since the three of them came back to the Castle. As expected, Lance had spent the first two days in a cryopod - one to treat his injuries (aside from his broken arm and numerous bruising, it turned out he also had three cracked ribs, one broken rib, a mild concussion and a low-grade smoke inhalation injury, the last two caused by the explosion of the Galra ship; Pidge and Keith had also had to be treated for smoke inhalation and general fatigue, but it only took two hours in the pod for each of them) and one to treat his illness (Coran nearly fainted when the pod indicated the Blue paladin had reached the Castle with a temperature of just over 104). However, one thing the pods were not able to restore was the essential nutrients Lance had lost in nearly a week of malnutrition, making his body so weak that he remained out cold even after the pod spat him out. So they carried him to his room and fixed him with an IV, figuring Lance would probably want to wake up in a familiar, cozy environment, and not in the cold, bland sterility of the infirmary.

And there was no way Keith and Pidge were not going be there when he opened his eyes.

Not after everything they'd been through.

Keith planted his palms on his knees, examining the pawns scattered on the three-dimensional board in concentration. "Wait, didn't you kill my king _before_ taking down all the guards? I thought this was illegal."

Pidge rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but _is_ legal if you pull a bypass card, like I did five minutes ago. Seriously, Keith, does _anything_ go through that thick hair of yours – "

"Are you guys having a game party?" a tired voice sent them both jumping, knocking the board off and sending all the pawns rolling across the room.

Lance was sitting in bed, hair disheveled and eyes drooping in their sockets as if he was ready to fall asleep again in seconds, but looking considerably better then he did when they were stuck in the Green Lion. His skin was almost back to its original mocha shade.

" _Lance!_ " Pidge lunged at him so fast Keith didn't even recall seeing her get on her feet. She wrapped all four limbs around his torso like a sloth and buried her face in his chest, and he gasped in surprise, not knowing what to do with his own hands.

"Pidge, stop strangling him," Keith said with a smile and came to sit on the edge of the bed. "Nice of you to finally join us," he told the dumbfounded Lance.

"What…" Lance coughed as his throat was painfully dry. "I'm in my room… we're back at the Castle. Hey, we're back at the Castle!" his face lit up with his familiar, goofy grin. "And I definitely _don't_ feel like I'm dying anymore!"

Pidge lifted her head and glared at him. "Yeah, thanks a lot for scaring the hell out of us. I think I've emptied enough bile-buckets for the rest of my life."

Lance's face fell. "Oh, right… sorry about that. I must have caused you so much trouble..."

"Hey, I was kidding," Pidge said, her expression softening. "Seriously, Lance, don't you remember what happened when the Galra surrounded us? Destroying an entire ship in one shot while pulling the trigger with a broken wrist… dude, that's the kind of stuff legends are made of. People are going to be talking about it for centuries."

Lance's ears were painted crimson and he glanced at Keith as if looking for his confirmation. Keith chuckled and nodded. "She's right. That was a pretty badass move. I tried to tell you back then, but you were already out of it," he pouted, "like you do every time we have a bonding moment."

Lance laughed awkwardly. "Is that so… well, I always told you I was the team's cool, ninja sharpshooter!" he puffed his chest and squared his jaw, looking so ridiculous Keith couldn't hold back a snort of laughter.

"Still…" Lance rubbed his neck, "I hope I didn't say anything weird, back when I was… y'know. I-I don't remember much, to be honest, because my head felt like fried noodles most of the time…" he looked at them questionably.

Keith and Pidge looked at each other in silence. Then Pidge cleared her throat and said: "Um… there was some fever talking, but nothing too _weird_ , no, I don't think so..."

Keith nodded eagerly, but Lance didn't seem convinced. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Okay, I _definitely_ said something weird. And as the new glorified hero of the team, I think I deserve to hear what exactly – "

His stomach released such a long, loud gurgle it may have been some kind of a new galactic record. He shut his mouth promptly, blushing so hard he was nearly purple.

"Maybe we should discuss it over dinner," Pidge said and peeled herself off Lance, her voice strained in attempt not to laugh. "Let's go to the kitchen, Hunk have been cooking a feast for you."

"Fine, but you're not getting away with this," Lance said and pulled the IV needle out of his arm. He threw off his blanket and rose to a stand – and would have immediately face-planted the floor had Keith not caught him on time.

"Easy there, glorified hero," Keith grunted under his weight. He sniffed the air and made a face. "Er… maybe you should stop by the showers first…"

"Shut up!" Lance screamed while Pidge doubled over in wild laughter. "I just woke up from a coma! Besides, look who's talking, you wash your mullet with soap!"

"It still smells way better than you right now," Keith said dryly.

"Once you're clean and fed to Hunk's satisfaction, let's go to the lounge and play some more Kings and Troops," Pidge said as they slowly made their way down the hallway, ignoring Keith's groan. "It's up to four players, so we can take turns with the others, too."

"Isn't it that game you once tried to explain to me and ended up throwing the board on the wall from frustration?" Lance asked. "Are you _sure_ you want to do this? Because you'll have to explain it all from the top and even then I can't promise I'll understand anything."

"I don't care. We have time."

"Really?" Lance's eyebrows shot up skeptically. "Where did that patience come from all of a sudden?"

Pidge shrugged. "Maybe there are some things worth being patient about, that's all," she said, sending Keith a meaningful look. He replied with a nod and a small smile, which left Lance more confused than ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we finally get the title of the fic :P (I acually don't like Hamilton that much, I just thought it was a cool title lol)
> 
> That's it, folks! Like I said at the beginning, I would love to read some comments. To be honest, I think I'm coming down with something myself (I hope it's not COVID-19 >_>), so hearing from you will definitely cheer me up!

**Author's Note:**

> What the hell is a 'particle storm'? I don't know. It's just something I made up for the story, haha. I figured that if they can have a 'particle barrier', they can have a particle storm as well. Made-up-bullshit-space-science is my specialty!


End file.
